


If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

by fobfantasia



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alcoholism implied, Angst I guess, Cute awkward people, First Kiss (with character), First Meetings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Band, Sad Pete, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fobfantasia/pseuds/fobfantasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's long-term girlfriend just left him. He basically lives at a bar chugging beers all night, that is, until Patrick comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Better by Regina Spektor, it just sounded perfect for a fic so I went ahead and did it.

He's had enough.  
He's tired of being left behind.  
He's tired of being depressed and bipolar and missing her.  
Pete looks out the cab window, longing for a feeling that'll make him ache in a way that he can actually feel. Whether good or bad. 

-

He closes his eyes and reopens them, in front of a bar. He walks in and the bartender puts a beer in front of him: his comfort drink since she left.  
A person comes up to the stage with a guitar and a soft voice introduces himself. Pete looks over from his corner of the island and sees a trucker cap over the shadow of a downturned face.  
"Uhm, hi... I'm Patrick, and I'm- I mean, I'll just play now."  
A couple whistles come from intoxicated men in the back and the boy named Patrick begins strumming a ballad with love words entwined somewhere in the notes.  
Pete stares and rubs circles on his beer bottle with one hand. He can't focus on anything but how his cap covers half of his face but he could watch his lips move with the lyrics' flow. He heard bits and pieces of a hurt tone and his eyebrows turned up in fondness, tempted to run onstage and hug this "Patrick," having the smoothest, most beautiful voice he's ever heard.  
Before Pete knew it, the song, then another, then the entire set, was over. His heart ached with something other than loneliness, it longed for him, for the stranger's comforting deep voice. It was a voice he wanted to wrap himself in and sleep in through the snowstorm.  
Patrick walked off stage and came up to the bar, asking for a water. Pete decided to take a risk, one risk to hear the warmth of his vocal cords vibrating to make noise.  
"That's not something people come to a bar to get a drink of," he blurts, upset that, wow, nothing else better to say? Pete wants to slap his palm to his forehead, hope he forgets he said anything that stupid.  
Patrick turns and smiles slightly, taking the bottle of water to his hands and opening it. "Well I'm not legal yet so..."  
Pete raises an eyebrow, wondering why anyone under twenty one is playing in a bar full of 30 to 40 year- old empty hearts. Pete realizes he's way too young to be an empty heart too, and his insides cringe.  
He tries to come up with a nice reply that won't sound stupid again, but everything did. He ends up just complimenting his music. "Thanks, dude. It's the only way I get extra cash for rent." So he's old enough to have his own place.  
"With a voice like that, you should already be past the late night bar phase. You should be in like, a band or something. A worldwide one." Pete wonders if he sounds stupid for the hundredth time, but the only reason he thinks it wasn't that stupid because the boy blushes and smiles a bit wider.  
"I don't exactly have the boyband look..." he mumbles, looking down at himself.  
"Hey, don't worry about it. To me at least, your talent surpasses whatever bad that I can't see and you do." This time, Pete does cringe and facepalm, feeling embarrassed for being so awkwardly smooth with this boy.  
Patrick looks up through his peripheral vision and smiles, and Pete can swear he hears the beginning of a love song on piano playing in his head. 

-

Pete and Patrick talk when Patrick has gigs at the bar and Pete ends up barely touching his beer, but the couple bucks are worth the warmth Patrick brings with his voice.  
Patrick starts shifting on his feet, swaying slightly and biting his lip. "Pete?"  
He looks up and his eyes meet Patrick's, also giving a comforting feel to life. "Yeah, 'Trick?"  
"I-I have a-another gig tomorrow afternoon, a-at a coffee shop, and I was thinking ma-maybe wecouldhangoutafterit?" Patrick was almost inaudible, but Pete always listens really close when Patrick talks, because, well, it's Patrick.  
But this time he pauses.  
Does Patrick want to actually want to hang out, willingly, with Pete Wentz, the emotional train wreck who's rebounding off his past girlfriend with this adorable, talented, barely-legal man? Of course, Pete not-so-casually casually replies with yes, or to be more accurate, "yes yes sure anytime you want, I'm rambling aren't I sorry dude I haven't hung out with anyone in a while- okay I'll shut up now." Patrick lets out a breathy laugh, one where you could just hear his relief.  
"So tomorrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this on my phone, ignore any odd typos or lack of spaces between paragraphs.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete comes early, because of two reasons:  
1\. His insomnia was caused my excitement (this time) and   
2\. He woke up extra early to make sure his hair was straightened just right and his eyeliner was perfect.   
He sees that Patrick wasn't even there yet, which was okay because, wow, it was early. He sat down with the black coffee he ordered in a booth.   
But then Pete hears the jingle of the door opening, and he can't help but look up from his seat (so what if he's facing the door? He's anxious!) and sees Patrick. Pete glances at the wall clock and smiles, 45 minutes early?   
Patrick doesn't seem to notice that Pete's there and walks straight to the barista and orders his own coffee. He turns around while waiting and makes eye contact with Pete, his ears turning pink. His shy smile makes Pete want to squeal at his cuteness, in which he almost does.   
Taking his coffee, Pat sits down across from Pete and lets out a breathless "hey."  
"Hey..." Pete says, cupping his hands around his styrofoam cup. Now that they were here, he had a feeling (but hoped to any god out there it wasn't true,) that this would be awkward, that they could only talk like they were best friends for years late at night with dizzying drunks surrounding them.   
It turns out their conversation (and later on, Patrick's gig) was fantastic, normal, warm, in a way that Pete didn't think should be allowed because it was so addicting, so comforting, he didn't feel the need to chug bottles of alcohol to end up forgetting everything that isn't her.   
He's started feeling okay again, like his presence was a kiss to a bruise from his mother. 

Their "first date" led to another, then another, then little bits of more...  
Patrick ended up coming over and, with his trucker-capped head on Pete's lap, watched a movie with the other.   
Pete, though, his eyes were elsewhere. Anywhere Patrick-related, they stuck. His coat by the door, his shoes knocked off by the couch, his toes wiggling inside his socks, his legs propped on top of the couch arm. Patrick's awkwardly twisted torso on the cushions and one of his almost excessively warm hands on Pete's knee. Patrick's strawberry blond hair peeking out from under the brim of his cap, his smooth cheeks sucked in from the pure interest Patrick has gorged into the film. Some action scene was happening but all Pete could focus on was the shift of Patrick's jaw as he changed emotion and bit his bottom lip.   
"Hey Pattycake?" Pete tested the waters and Patrick looked up with an angry pout that could give cavities to someone who's never even heard of the word sugar because of how sweet it was. He smiled and took Patrick's hand in his, just looking at the screen. Patrick's entire body warmed at this, which he didn't think was possible, and just let him.   
Actually, he squeezed his hand. He took that as an okay and they did that for the remaining one and a half hour of the movie.   
And to walk Patrick to the door.   
And when they let go, Pete got a kiss on the cheek that made him squeal as soon as the door closed behind him. 

Hand holding and cheek kissing became routine, and they even did so after Patrick's regular bar gig at their usual seats. Everything was falling into a rhythm, and Pete wasn't sore anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

One night, Patrick couldn't make it to his gig on time, so Pete had a chance to actually drink his beer, or two, or more-  
When Patrick finally arrived, the room was already a bit swirly and hazy. He smiled at the sight of the cap and sweater and reached out one hand. Patrick took it gladly and grinned, until he ended up face-to-face with Pete.   
"Are you drunk?" was his first question, followed by, "how many drinks have you had?" and "are you even listening to me?"   
Pete couldn't help but laugh a bit, replying with "I can hold my liquor!" and a sloppy cheek kiss that landed a bit to far to the left.   
Patrick just stared at Pete's lips because, well, how to put this casually... they had just come in full contact with his own.   
"U-Uh Pete? Y-You should get ho-home and sober up..." He couldn't help but stutter, his face bright pink.   
"Nah, I'm fine, I don't drink any more than I already have when you're around. I'll be fine!" Pete landed another badly aimed kiss at Patrick's face, landing on his glasses this time.   
Patrick laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, taking Pete's hand. He double-checked that all Pete's drinks were paid for and walked him home.   
"Patty, I can take care of myself you know, I've done this a bunch of times since my ex dumped me for a more emotionally stable guy!" Pete rambled as Patrick unlocked the door, the last statement making him pause for a moment. Pete leaned his forehead on the younger boy's shoulder, sighing sadly and mumbled, "tried to forget everything that isn't her," as he hugged Patrick from behind. He led him inside, dropping Pete onto his bed and (awkwardly) helping him out of his shoes and skinny jeans to sleep more comfortably.   
Patrick was about to close the door before Pete's scratchy voice called after him.   
"Yes, Peter?" He replied, acting annoyed but smiling fondly at his silly tipsy state.   
"Come cuddle me, I've been alone for a while lately..." He pouted, coaxing the other boy over with redundant phrases.   
Patrick kicked off his sneakers and laid next to Pete, careful not to be too close, only to have black hair tucked underneath his chin. A pair of lips kissed the corner of his mouth and let out a sigh, before loud snoring began.   
Patrick chuckled and threw an arm over Pete's and fell asleep, despite the echoing snores bouncing off the walls of Pete's bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first four chapters all at once and then this took forever

One night, Patrick couldn't make it to his gig on time, so Pete had a chance to actually drink his beer, or two, or more-  
When Patrick finally arrived, the room was already a bit swirly and hazy. He smiled at the sight of the cap and sweater and reached out one hand. Patrick took it gladly and grinned, until he ended up face-to-face with Pete.   
"Are you drunk?" was his first question, followed by, "how many drinks have you had?" and "are you even listening to me?"   
Pete couldn't help but laugh a bit, replying with "I can hold my liquor!" and a sloppy cheek kiss that landed a bit to far to the left.   
Patrick just stared at Pete's lips because, well, how to put this casually... they had just come in full contact with his own.   
"U-Uh Pete? Y-You should get ho-home and sober up..." He couldn't help but stutter, his face bright pink.   
"Nah, I'm fine, I don't drink any more than I already have when you're around. I'll be fine!" Pete landed another badly aimed kiss at Patrick's face, landing on his glasses this time.   
Patrick laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, taking Pete's hand. He double-checked that all Pete's drinks were paid for and walked him home.   
"Patty, I can take care of myself you know, I've done this a bunch of times since my ex dumped me for a more emotionally stable guy!" Pete rambled as Patrick took his keys and unlocked the door, the last statement making him pause for a moment. Pete leaned his forehead on the younger boy's shoulder, sighing sadly and mumbled, "tried to forget everything that isn't her," as he hugged Patrick from behind. He led him inside, dropping Pete onto his bed and (awkwardly) helping him out of his shoes and skinny jeans to sleep more comfortably.   
Patrick was about to close the door before Pete's scratchy voice called after him.   
"Yes, Peter?" He replied, acting annoyed but smiling fondly at his silly tipsy state.   
"Come cuddle me, I've been by my self alone for a while lately..." He pouted, coaxing the other boy over with redundant phrases.   
Patrick kicked off his sneakers and laid next to Pete, careful not to be too close, only to have black hair tucked underneath his chin. A pair of lips kissed the corner of his mouth and let out a sigh, before loud snoring began.   
Patrick chuckled and threw an arm over Pete's and fell asleep, despite the echoing snores bouncing off the walls of Pete's bedroom. 

Patrick is sitting up and is shaking his shoulders but he's not waking up, he's just trembling and mumbling nonsense; Patrick's terrified. He wants to help but he's still fucking-  
Pete startles awake with tears in his eyes and his stubby nails digging into his biceps, except he can't feel them in them... And they feel softer than his own...  
"Jesus Pete, how the fuck do you ever sleep with anyone..." A rough voice groans, pushing Pete's hands off of their arm, the loud resonance bouncing around his brain painfully.   
"P-Pat?" Pete whispers; his brain feels like it's twisting inside his skill. He winces and buries his face in Patrick's warm chest.   
Suddenly, Patrick cupped one clammy hand against Pete's cheek and he held his breath.   
"How much did you drink before I got there?" Patrick asked, a bit nervous.   
"I don't know, I never bother counting..." Pete mumbled, leaning a bit into the younger one's hand.   
He pulled back his hand and blushed, visible in the disappearing moonlight. Pete forced himself to forget everything, every swig he dedicated to her, every bill he put down to clear his mind, except one, a kiss with a hazy figure he wished was Patrick and hoped it wasn't.   
"Wait, did I do anything stupid? Did I hurt you? What did I do?" Pete began getting nervous, sitting up and crossing his legs. It was until then that he realized that they were in the same bed sleeping, but he was fully clothed. Did they do something?   
Patrick let out a breathy laugh crossed his arms, shaking his head.  
He let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the dark black strands.   
"Anyways, why are you in my bed? Not to be rude or anything."  
"I took you home and you asked me to cuddle you," Patrick explained.   
Pete laughed and ignored the slightly awkward atmosphere. "That's why it's a fucking furnace under here." He looked up and their noses brushed, making them laugh. "Christ, we act like such a couple," Pete said, taking the chance to be totally inappropriate here. "Would you like to be?"  
Patrick stared at him, dazed. "Did the alcohol wear through the night?"  
Pete shook his head and cringed, his headache taking hold. Patrick kissed his temple and shrugged, replying with, "why not?"


	5. Chapter 5

After lots of kissing and nights in with Patrick, Pete had forgotten what beer and Her lips tasted like. He was breaking down his own walls and handing his heart out again, through music, through lyrics, through Patrick. There wasn't any need for the pills anymore, no need for anything except for Patrick. 

Sun beamed through the windows and he covered his eyes, whining, "Pete, fuck, it's like six in the morning-"  
"It's fucking 11, get the fuck up!"  
Patrick tucked himself back in and hid under the sheets, only to have a body with very sharp hip bones and a hard chest land on top of him.  
Pete began kissing the lump under the covers, nuzzling his curling fringe on it. "Do you know what day it is?"  
"It's early, go back to sleep..."  
Pete kneeled next to the side Patrick was facing and lifted up the covers, pressing a kiss with sour breath to his lips. "It's your birthday and you're legal!"  
"Yeah, I get enough of a taste when we make out with you drunk, so good night." Patrick crinkled up his face and curled up.  
Pete couldn't hold his excitement and reached under the bed to take out a (badly) wrapped box.  
Patrick peeked open an eye and smiled, whispering, "is that for me?"  
Pete nodded, making the half-awake, now man, sit up in dizzying euphoria. He took it hesitantly and unwrapped it as carefully as possible, probably as uncarefully it was wrapped, and saw a cap, with words on the front: "I (heart) Bingo". Patrick burst out laughing and set it on his head, catching a glimpse of something black under it. He took out the tissue paper and found a brand new microphone, with a silver smiley face on it.  
"Now you can record your songs instead of singing them in a dark bar..." Pete mumbled, biting his lip. Patrick leaped onto him, hugging him as hard as possible, whispering with a chuckle in his voice, "I love Bingo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY /HAD TO/ put the Bingo hat, I don't care where he got it from I just thought it'd be cute like this
> 
> Also, sorry it's so short I'm just blocked.


End file.
